I Feel All Growed Up

I live a relatively simple existence. I do my best to maintain a drama free social circle and I have my daily/weekly/monthly routines and rarely deviate from them. But every now and then I like to take my comfortable little life, pack it into a proverbial food processor and mix it without the lid on.

Pictured: Change

At the ripe old age of 30, I’ve decided it’s time to get my first apartment to myself in the city. I lived on my own a few times in Texas and I loved it. Of course I was also paying somewhere around $400 a month. Up here roommates are more or less required if you also intend to eat regularly.

Through the connections of some truly wonderful people I’ve found a great Astoria studio in my price range and I’ll be moving around the first of January. We haven’t drawn the paper work up just yet but I have verbal confirmation from the landlord and that’s enough to get me excited and to start the wheels spinning.

I’m really looking forward to taking a space that is singularly mine and putting my personality into it. I’ve never looked at NYC apartments as long-term things and so I’ve never bothered accumulating much or going out of my way to decorate. As a result I’ve always felt like I live in a dorm room. I consider having matching furniture to be a sign of refined living. But I’m convinced I can (and need to) do better. Truthfully I expected to be married by now and had hoped to avoid making the really difficult life decisions like what color paint to use in a living room. Seriously. I see those little paint sample cards and just freeze up.

Fortunately I’m blessed with a lot of amazing and creative friends to help in the process. And lord knows I’ve helped enough people move I won’t feel guilty calling in a few favors come moving day.